Warning: Reader death, a little language, heavy angst

"She moved."

"No, Steve. She didn't."

"But I saw it."

"I know you did," Bruce sighed, "but she didn't move. It's your mind making you see what it wants, and I know how much it wants that."

"Do you?" Steve snapped back with a sudden shift to an anger in his voice that startled the doctor to full attention. He was sitting in his chair on the quinjet, across from your lifeless body on the cot at its center, watching you and studying every inch so that he wouldn't miss any sign that you might be alive. The Captain had been watching for so long that his eyes were playing tricks on him now, and he frightened himself in how close he was to believing them. He closed his heavy lids, trying to soothe the sting beneath them from the tears that wouldn't stop, clenching his fists with the ebb and flow of his rage.

He wanted to reach out and shake you awake, making this just some cruel joke that was being played on him. If you woke, he would forgive Sam for telling him that you were gone; he would forgive him for bringing you back to him this way, and would even thank him for not actually killing you, but it wasn't going to happen.

"Steve..."

"No one knows a damn thing," he replied quietly, his eyes still closed. He took a long and pained breath, accentuating the rise and fall of his chest as he sunk back into the seat. Steve's body was broken and fatigued, weak and numb, though not from injuries in battle, but from grief. It was grief that he had yet to accept. "I think it best if everyone just keeps their opinions to themselves, and that they stop trying to tell me they understand, because there's no fucking way that they understand a thing about how this feels."

When Steve finally opened his eyes, Bruce expected to see the sadness that echoed in his voice, but instead he found nothing. They were cold and dark, looking back at him as if he were staring through him; like he wasn't even there.

"Cap, let us help you through this."

"When I lost Bucky," he began softly, shifting his gaze back to you, "I thought that was the worst pain I would ever feel. I didn't think I could go on after that. But I did, because I needed to fight back. I was going to stop them once and for all. But what do I do this time, Banner? When the one I need to stop is my friend? When the one who took her away from me is one of the people that I trusted the most?"

"This was an accident, Steve. Sam didn't do this with any purpose, you know that."

"Of course I know that, I'm not an idiot."

"Okay, then what are you thinking-"

"But that doesn't make it go away. He was careless, and she paid for that." Feeling the shift of the jet and hearing the scrape of the wheels as it landed in the hangar, Steve stopped and stood, resting a hand on your shoulder and shuddering at the coolness of your skin. It was still soft, and still felt like you, but he knew that you were no longer there. He ran his fingers over the curves of your cheek and lips, leaning down slowly to kiss you one final time as the man you knew; one final time before he became someone that you would be ashamed of and would have never loved. "I'm sorry," he whispered, "I'll make this right."

Clint opened the door of the jet and stood from the pilot seat to join his two teammates, pausing cautiously and looking expectantly at Steve for direction; you needed to be moved, but he didn't want Steve to take on that burden given the pain that he was already in. "Let me take her, Cap."

"Thank you. I know I can trust you with her, Clint. I also trust you to tell me where Bucky's hidden Sam."

"Come on, man. Don't do this."

"Steve," Bruce added, "if you don't come with us now, I'll keep you here myself. You know I don't want to do that."

"What do you two think that I'm gonna do?"

"Kill him," they both agreed in unison, and without hesitation.

"I'll let him defend himself. I won't be unfair about it." Steve replied matter-of-fact. He slid his fingers into each glove, securing the straps and pausing, turning each hand over slowly to look at them; he was trying to decide if they would follow his commands despite how much he didn't want them to. He didn't want to go after his friend, but the pain and rage wouldn't stop unless he did.

"Clint, just take care of her for me. I'll find him myself."

"Steve, stand down," Bruce commanded, rushing out in front of his teammate and taking a stance at the exit of the jet, holding his hands out to stop him with his feet planted firmly in place. There was already a hint of green in his eyes, but it made no difference to the Captain, who continued forward. "I will keep you here, and you're not going to like it."

"Move, doctor."

"No."

"Move, or you will be moved."

"Cap, please, you need to cool off and think about this," Clint broke in. "You're going to do something you'll regret. And what about Bucky? Are you going after him too? In case you've forgotten, he matches your strength, so you're gonna be outnumbered. Beyond even that, they're your best friends! You're not thinking clearly."

"They were my best friends, Clint," Steve mumbled sadly, shifting the shield on his forearm just slightly enough so that neither man watching him had noticed. "Sam took away the one person in the world that I loved the most, and Bucky's hiding him from me, so please, tell me how I'm not thinking clearly. I feel like I have a pretty descent grasp on the situation. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

Steve turned sharply and swung his arm wide, connecting with Bruce hard enough to throw him well into the hangar bay and slamming into the far wall. If he calculated correctly, he would be able to run to the edge of the landing platform and jump before Bruce could transform completely. Clint had you in his arms already, so he wasn't even a concern, but his position allowed for Steve to get one final and sorrowful glimpse of you before disappearing over the side of the tower on his way to find his vengeance against the men who had so utterly betrayed him.

He tucked his body tightly against the shield as it hit the unforgiving concrete of the sidewalk, rolling forward into the impact to use it to stand, shaking off the jolt and looking up at the tower that would never be his home again. Steve thought he would feel something now, at the moment of walking away, but he felt nothing of loss for this life; you were gone, so the tower could be packed to the walls with people and still feel completely empty to him. It was nothing more than a big ugly building, just like he had said from the very beginning.

~~~

"FRIDAY, I need a location on Steve."

"Captain Rogers has left the tower, Mr. Barnes. He's left his comm and phone behind, so I am unable to track him directly. Would you like me to search city cameras?"

"Yeah, thanks," Bucky groaned, "let me know as soon as you have a lock on him."

He stood by one of the small windows of the run down apartment, one of his old Hydra safe-houses in Georgia. He studied the roads that surrounded the building and watched the traffic patterns and pedestrians on the sidewalks for any sign of change. The home itself wasn't comfortable by any means, but it would do the job for now. The furniture was covered in dust and the appliances were laden with rust and grease; there was no food or supplies, but he didn't think they would be there that long anyway. He had a few other homes that he could have used, but there wasn't time to get much farther away from New York and to get a head start on Steve.

"He's coming for you," Bucky said quietly, his gaze still fixed outside.

"I know."

"You ready?"

"To take on Steve? Would you be?"

"I am."

Sam lowered his head, trying to push away the stabbing pain in his chest and the overwhelming remorse that filled him. He tried to stop, tried to save you when he realized what he had done, but you were too far gone. He would never forget the look in Steve's eyes when he carried you to him, begging for forgiveness that he knew he didn't deserve. Begging his friend to forgive him when he couldn't get you there fast enough to say goodbye. Steve was coming for him now, and he hadn't decided yet if he would even try to fight back.

"You don't have to do this, Buck. I deserve what I'm about to get."

"You think you deserve to die over this?" Bucky replied with a quiet gasp of disbelief, finally turning to look at him. "You're really gonna let him kill you?"

"Steve Rogers isn't a murderer. He wouldn't...right?"

"Sam, trust me. I wouldn't go behind the back of my best friend to take the one man he's trying to find halfway across the country, if I thought you were just going to get a good ass-kicking."

Part 2

"(Y/N), can you get 'em off me?"

"Hold your course, Sam, I've got you," you smiled to yourself, moving up slowly behind the Hydra assailant who had come too close to striking down your friend one too many times. Sam had never failed to impress you with his flight skill, but this guy was impressing you too, in all the wrong ways. "I'm almost on him."

"Girl, you know I trust you, but my wings are feeling a little singed, so maybe you could hurry?"

"That doesn't sound like trust to me, Wilson," you whispered back, finally only steps from your target. You drew your weapon and held it to the base of his skull, pressing it firmly enough to send a shockwave down the man's spine and startling him to drop his own gun. "If you could stop trying to kill my friend, I might consider letting you live."

"I don't want any favors from you," the man hissed.

"Hands up where I can see them."

"My hands?" he laughed darkly. "You're worried about my hands? Here," he paused, raising them up slightly, "look closely at them if you want. I don't think there's anything that you really want to see."

His tone set off alarms in your mind, and you sensed that you shouldn't be standing here alone with him anymore. He was being almost too cooperative, and he sounded as if he were enjoying being caught. "Sam, care to join me down here?"

"Damn right."

Upon closer inspection of the agent's hands as he had insisted that you do, you spotted a thick coil weaved into the leather of his right glove, encircling his wrist and up his sleeve. You lastly saw that there was a slight bump on the thumb, and you took a large step back and away from him, but he spun and grabbed you tightly to him. "Sam! Stay back, he's wearing a bomb!"

"We're on the way, (Y/N)!" you heard Steve call out in your earpiece. "Try to talk him down!"

"I know who you are," the man growled in your ear, pulling your comm away and throwing it aside. "You're the Captain's wife. Imagine my legacy if I were to take you with me. I would be lauded as one of the greatest in Hydra's ranks. To kill you would kill him too."

"You underestimate the man. And me."

"I've got a clean shot," Sam replied, "(Y/N), don't move!" Sam said to you, but without your earpiece, you didn't hear him. He flipped his guns into his hands and took aim.

The man heard Sam behind him and reacted, spinning around to hold you in front of him as a shield, allowing you to take the full assault that your teammate had just released. With another dark and louder laugh, he let you go and watched your limp form crumble to the ground at his feet before turning to run into the dense woods behind him, knowing that no one would follow now.

"No, no, no, no, no...Steve! Steve, (Y/N)...(Y/N)'s down...Steve!" Sam screamed, pushing himself to fly as fast as he could. "Oh, God...no, no, (Y/N), come on..." he panted, dropping to his knees next to you. "(Y/N), you gotta stay with me, sweetheart, please...I'm so sorry..." His words were tumbling from him as fast as his hands were moving, frantic in trying to stop the bleeding in too many places. "Shit...no, no, no, please...(Y/N)..."

"Sam...it's okay...not your fault," you gasped. You could feel each breath getting tighter and harder to take in as your first lung collapsed, grimacing at the stabbing pain of the second beginning to falter. A harsh cough tried to work its way up your throat but you were too weak, hearing the sound of your own blood bubbling up into your airway. You had always heard that drowning was such a peaceful way to go, and this was anything but. "Tell Steve..."

"You're gonna tell him, (Y/N). Don't you do this...he's gonna be here," Sam begged, raising up slightly to look around for your husband and praying to himself that he would get there fast enough. It had only been a matter of seconds, but when he looked back down, he immediately felt like he had died with you. "(Y/N)? No, baby, come on, don't...you can't do this..."

"Sam!"

"Bucky..." your friend cried quietly as Bucky arrived first at his side, "what did I do? It was so fast. I had him...and then it was her...before I could stop..."

"Oh...fuck. Oh, not you, (Y/N)," Bucky whispered to himself, his voice already beginning to break at the sight of you. "Sam, we need to get her to Steve." Bucky knelt down to slide his arms under you, wiping the tears from his eyes with his sleeve before reaching out, but Sam pushed him aside.

"No, I did this. I'll take her."

"I think it's best if you step away. You don't know how he's gonna react."

Sam simply nodded and removed his gloves, now covered in your blood that had drenched through the rugged material, dropping them carelessly to the ground beside you. He pulled his sleeves up and slid his arms slowly beneath you, as if you were breakable to his touch. He took a deep breath that rattled in his chest, making it painfully obvious to him that you would never take another; you would never take another breath, and he was selfish enough to continue on. This was his fault, and he had the audacity to breathe.

"Sam, Buck!" Steve yelled from the distance, breaking into a solid sprint at the sight before him; Bucky with his head hung and his hand rubbing the wet from his cheeks, and Sam, holding your body limply draped over his arms as he walked towards him. "Sam..." he said in a quiet whimper as they met, "Sam, what happened?"

"There wasn't time...I tried to stop..."

Steve reached out and took you from him, the two men moving you across their trembling arms as if you were a fragile and tiny baby, taking care to be slow and checking each other in their movements. Once he had you completely, Steve clutched you to his chest and buried his face in your hair, whispering something to you that Sam couldn't hear. He didn't want to hear it.

"Steve, I'm so sorry. The guy turned around and it was (Y/N). It was so fast...I'm sorry."

"Get the hell away from her."

"Steve," Bucky broke in, "take her home. We shouldn't talk about this right now."

"I said, get the hell away from her," he snarled, feeling something snap within himself. "Her name will never pass through your lips again, do you hear me?"

"Sam, you need to go," Bucky leaned in close to whisper, pulling at his teammate's arm. The air around them became cold and the darkness growing in Steve's eyes was something that he had never seen from his friend before. He had never been afraid of Steve in his whole life, until this moment. "Wilson."

"You took her from me," Steve grew louder, looking at Sam in a building rage. Everywhere he looked, all he could see was red in his vision; all he could feel was pain, and all he could think of was revenge. "You took her last words from me. You took everything." He took a step forward, taking care to hold you steady against him, "what do you think I should take from you?"

Bucky grabbed Sam's arm with much more force now, using his metal hand just to make his point and determination clearer. He pulled him back despite Sam's resistance, until he understood and gave in. "Get to the jet, now," he whispered firmly, "I don't know if I can stop him."

"From what?" Sam's eyes widened when Bucky replied with a hard shove against him to create distance, looking back at his enraged friend with a raised hand, pleading for him to rethink what he was about to do.

"Steve," Bucky began as calmly as he could muster, "take a breath, pal. I know that you're hurting right now, but just breathe."

"Take her and get out of my way, Buck. This isn't about you."

"I can't do that."

"Take her and get out of my way," he repeated slowly, staring at the man he had known his whole life with the sudden realization that maybe he didn't know him at all. He was going to let Sam get away, even as he stood there with your lifeless body only a few feet from him. "If you don't, you might as well run with him, and don't you dare look back expecting to see a friend asking you to stay. That's not me anymore."

~~~

"How do you not blame me for this?" Sam asked quietly as he wrung his hands together, checking his watch with a flip of his wrist every few minutes. "She was your friend too."

"Who said that I didn't?"

"Good, I was starting to think there was something wrong with you."

"Who said there isn't?"

"Touché," Sam chuckled; it was the first time he had made any sound even close to resembling himself. He leaned back in the old and broken chair, groaning at the tension that filled him, not knowing how much longer it would be before Steve found them; not knowing if the next minute would bring the punishment that he actually found himself wanting. He couldn't stop replaying the scene in his mind, and he welcomed Steve's fists as a distraction.

"Have you decided what you're going to do when he gets here? FRIDAY had him last spotted in South Carolina. It could be any minute now." Bucky turned from his position at the same small window, pulling the threadbare curtain closed behind him. "We still have time to find another place to hide."

"No, I told you, I don't want to run from this. Look, I appreciate what you're doing for me, man, I really do, but running isn't going to make it go away. Running isn't going to stop me from seeing her die over and over in my head."

"And Steve knocking it out of you will?" Bucky huffed and turned into the small kitchen, taking his pack from the table to open it, digging his hands inside and rummaging around until he found what he wanted. "Here," he sighed, tossing a wrapped bar to his friend, "at least eat something before you die. Last meal, or whatever."

"You're such a comfort."

"Fuck off," he laughed, unwrapping his own snack and readily shoving half of it into his mouth. They sat in silence and ate, each of them running scenarios through their minds as to what Steve would bring and how he would fight them. "Tell me what you want me to do."

"What do you mean?"

"I'll back you up, if you want. I don't want him to kill you, Sam. Kick your ass, sure," he smiled, "but I'm starting to tolerate you. It would be a shame to kill you just as I'm starting to consider maybe liking you."

"Again, comforting," he snorted in reply, tossing the spent wrapper on the table. "Nah, this isn't your fight, and you're his best friend. I think you've done enough to piss him off as it is."

"If you change your mind-" he stopped, hearing a commotion on the street below. With a glance to Sam, Bucky set his remaining food on the table and wiped his hands on his pants, stepping to the window and peering out to see a crowd gathering on the other side of the street, excitedly pointing in his direction. It was hard to see their focus at this angle, but the sun gave him unexpected help, blinding him momentarily from it's reflection against a clean Vibranium target.

"He's here."

Part 3

"See? This is why I always bring Nat," you panted, dropping into a seat at the bar between Steve and Sam, who looked nowhere near as out of breath as you were. "To expect me to keep up with all three of you on my own is just cruel. I think you're trying to kill me."

You took a moment to catch your breath, wiping a few beads of sweat from your forehead with one of the cheap bar napkins as you leaned in towards Sam with a playful nudge of your shoulder, "thankfully Steve isn't the best dancer, so I can get a quick rest."

"I heard that," Steve huffed, leaning forward on his barstool just slightly with a wave of his hand to signal the bartender your way. The dark little establishment was a favorite of his and Bucky's, which quickly grew into a team favorite and had a tradition of hosting each pre-mission drinking binge, mixed with a few rounds of dancing that only got sloppier and less coordinated as the night wore on. Tonight had been different, as you had yet to have your first drink, but Steve appeared to be covering that for you. "Two more of these," he pointed towards the empty glasses, "a beer, and a water. Thanks."

"You ready for another go, doll?"

With a shake of your head, you smiled at Bucky's offer, leaning into his kiss on your cheek as he slid up behind you and threw his arm lazily over your shoulder. "Why don't you take Sam for a quick spin, Buck? I'd pay real cash to see that..." you paused, frowning at the glass that the bartender had just set in front of you. "Rogers, did you seriously get me water?"

"Yeah?"

"You're kidding, right?"

"The doctor said it would be easier for you to quit certain things now when you have more time to adjust, rather than waiting until the last minute. He also said that once you're pregnant-"

"Fine," you groaned, pushing the glass of unappealing liquid away, "then I'll stop tomorrow. Let me just get through this mission, and then cross my heart, I'm done. Now, be a good husband and get me drunk."

"Yes, ma'am," he relented with a displeased sigh, turning towards the bartender once again with a toss of a bill as he ordered your favorite. "Keep 'em coming," he smirked to the man, taking the new glass and sliding it in front of you with a grin. "My dear, the first of your last drinks. Enjoy."

"Cheers." You brought the glass to your lips and felt a bead of condensation run down your hand and to your wrist, cooling you from the last dance that still had you overheated and breathing heavily. After a few delicious and soothing swallows, you let an ice cube slip into your mouth, setting the glass down heavily and chewing on it with an obvious anxiety. You kept the glass in your hand and stared at the dark liquid, waiting for it to take effect and calm you like it was supposed to.

"You seem nervous, hon," Sam said quietly. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I just...ugh, I can't shake this bad feeling about the job tomorrow. I don't know what it is." With a slight shake in your hand, you brought the glass up again, this time taking a slower drink and trying to quiet your worries. "But hey, who am I kidding? It's you and me, right? We're gonna kick so much ass."

"That's our girl," Bucky laughed with a gentle slap on your shoulder, stepping away to talk to Steve and to leave you with your best friend, knowing that if anyone could bolster your confidence, it was him.

"Damn straight we will!" Sam agreed. "Listen, stop worrying, babe. You know I'd never let anything happen to my favorite partner."

~~~

The crowd across the street from the tiny apartment building had grown by easily triple, but the silence was as if no one was there watching what was playing out in front of them. The bystanders pointed and shook their heads, covering their mouths to keep their shocked gasps and shouts of disbelief at bay, fearful that the rage they were seeing could be turned on them.

"I'm not letting you in, Steve," Bucky said between strikes, "you don't know what you're doing." His metal hand reached up and clutched Steve's human one, twisting abruptly to flip him onto his back with a hard slap on the concrete. "You'll never forgive yourself if you do this."

Steve leaned and pulled his arm back enough to release the shield, slamming it against Bucky's chest to send him into the building wall and crumbling rocks from the façade. He sprung to his feet and charged with the shield forward, pinning his friend hard against the jagged edges of brick. "I'm not in the mood to forgive anyone. Why should I hold myself to a different standard?" With a loud grunt he gave a final push into Bucky with all of his might and held it, forcing the last air from his chest until he passed out, emotionlessly watching him slide down the wall into a heap at his feet.

Every footstep that Sam heard grew louder than the last, finally drowning out the frantic rhythm that his own heart was playing in his ears. Each footstep was his countdown to penance; to a price too high for him to pay, but one that he was willing to give of himself to ease his friend's pain, if anything would. When the feet came to a halt at his door, and he could see the shadow of Steve's feet on the other side, the thumping in his ears was silenced.

"What you stopping for? It's open."

Sam watched with held breath at the slow turn of the door knob, cringing at the wail and creak of the hinges when Steve pushed the door open wide, displaying a suit that was still covered in your dried blood and a look in his eye that lacked any semblance of the friend he had known.

"Steve, I know there's nothing that I can say-"

"Then shut up."

"This isn't going to change what happened."

"I don't care," he whispered with a tremble in his voice, "you killed my wife."

Sam dropped back to steady his stance and defend himself from Steve's burst forward, but the first strike was so powerful that he had no chance. He had taken the full brunt of Steve's rage; it was a force like nothing he had ever seen, or felt, and he knew this was it for him from the first hit that left a large dent in the far wall.

"You can kill me if you want to, Cap," Sam panted, trying to pull himself from the floor before Steve could reach him, "if that's what you need, then go ahead. I deserve it."

"Yes, and I plan to." Steve reached down and wrapped his hand around Sam's throat, lifting him from the floor and up to the full extension of his arm overhead. He watched the blood drain from his lips and his eyes beginning to bulge as he struggled for even the smallest gasp of air. "How?" Steve whispered. "How could you let this happen? You were my friend...my brother. She loved you. She trusted you, and you murdered her."

"Steve..." Sam choked out, reaching up at his throat to try to break free and tearing at the gloved fingers digging into his skin, but the Captain was far too strong. "I'm...sorry..."

"Did she tell you that it wasn't your fault? That it was okay?" Steve continued, tightening his grip, "Did she try to make you feel better in her last moments? Make you think that you could forgive yourself?"

"Yes..."

"Those words should have been mine. I should have been there for her, not you. I should have been there..." his voice cracked, his lower lip trembling just slightly. "I could have told her that I loved her one more time. Just one more..."

Sam's vision began to grow hazy and dark and his feet were numb, the sensation spreading up his legs and now beginning in his arms. White flashes and spots danced across his sight and he felt heavy, his body growing limp under Steve's hold. "She...loved..."

"Me? I know that, Sam. Don't tell me shit that I already know like it's some sort of epiphany or revelation that will soften me enough to let go." Steve snapped his head at the sound of Bucky's feet crossing the threshold of the room, reflexively dropping Sam into a gasping pile so he could turn to fight. "Can't you just stay out of this?"

"You don't think I loved her, Steve?" Bucky blurted out as he attacked. "She was my family too, and you don't see me on a goddamn murder rampage!" His metal arm wrapped around Steve's and spun him face-first into the wall, throwing his entire weight into his back with a thrust of his knee into his spine. "We're all hurting, Steve!"

"Don't talk to me like we're the same," Steve moaned, trying to recover from the tingling and needles that were ravaging his nerves after the hit. His knees buckled slightly when he tried to stand, using the nearby table to push up from ever so slowly. "Don't talk to me like you have a clue what this feels like. Don't you dare talk to me like you're my friend or like you cared about her at all."

"Oh, fuck you, man," Bucky stumbled back and away from him, holding his hands up in exasperation and complete disbelief at what he was hearing. "Fuck you." He stepped around Steve and towards Sam, who was beginning to have a normal color in his face again and his breathing appearing almost normal. Bucky reached a hand down to help him up, but a tight cord wrapped around his wrist and yanked him back fiercely to the ground. Steve pressed his boot into his sternum, smiling to himself at the crunch of bone echoing around him.

"I'm not done with him yet," he hissed, securing Bucky's legs with another tie before securing one of Natasha's widow bites to his metal appendage, rendering it immobile with the crackle of electricity coursing through it. "Sam," he turned, "any last words?"

"Yeah...thank you," he replied, his voice broken and excruciating with each word.

"I'm sorry?"

"Thank you. For trusting me all those years ago." Sam barely had enough strength to speak, let alone stand, but somehow he pushed himself up to look his Captain in the eyes before accepting his fate. "You showed up on my doorstep with Nat, and you trusted me to protect you. You gave me a new purpose, to help people again in the way I needed to. You gave me a family that finally understood. So thank you for that, Steve."

Sam took a shaky breath and closed his eyes, prepared to accept his last moments, wishing that he could free Bucky from the pain he was going through as the electricity continued to surge around him. He wished many things in those final seconds, but he made certain that the last image in his mind was of you, on that last night in the bar, smiling and laughing as he spun you around the dance floor. When a tiny smile began to spread across his lips, he knew...he was ready. He waited a moment before opening his eyes again, and the sight before him wasn't at all what he was expecting.

Steve was gone.

Part 4

"When will this stop hurting so much? Why can't you make it stop?"

"I'm doing as much as I can without hurting you, Steve. If I push too hard, you could lose the memories that you want to keep along with the bad."

"Maybe it would hurt less if they were gone," he whimpered, squeezing his eyes closed and dropping his head into his hands. "I can't live like this."

"Is that what you really want? Do you really want her erased, along with all of the joy and love that she brought to your life? Because I fear that without those parts of her with you, you would have killed both of your friends that day."

~~~

Steve walked cautiously next to you, fumbling and smiling awkwardly at you each time his gait wavered and his hand bumped into yours like a shy schoolboy on his first date. And then it hit you; maybe there was a reason for that.

"Steve, have you ever taken a girl out before? Is this your first date?"

"What? No...no, it's not...well, not exactly..." he stammered with a nervous push of his hand through his hair. "It's just that, no one was ever really...interested, ya know? I wasn't this guy back then. Girls weren't exactly lining up."

"Shallow bitches."

"Hey, language!" he finally relaxed and laughed, nudging you with his shoulder and knocking you off of your footing. As you stumbled slightly, he reached out and grabbed your arm to steady you, but then pulled you closer and wrapped his arm around your shoulder. "There, is that better? See? I'm not scared that much."

"Never said you were, Cap."

The two of you continued along the Boardwalk in silence, neither of you sure of what to say next. A small part of you felt a competitive contentment when you caught women staring at Steve and looking at you with a hint of jealousy. You would never think to parade him around like the prize that he actually was, but that didn't mean you couldn't enjoy the reactions freely given to you.

"Okay, so you've been here a million times, right?"

"Sure," he nodded.

"What's one thing that you've always wanted to do but never did?"

"Hmm, okay, well rides really aren't my thing, ask Buck. Very...messy," he grimaced, glancing across the park towards the Cyclone. "But there is one thing I can think of off the top." His smile brightened and his arm dropped from your shoulder to reach for your hand. He pulled you excitedly, almost giddy with giggles to run towards the game area.

"I've never won anything before!"

"Seriously?"

"Seriously!" He slowed his steps to look at each game, carefully choosing where he wanted to start. "My eyesight was terrible, I had no sense of aim, I couldn't throw to save my life...it was sad." His eyes widened when he found the booth he wanted, again pulling you along excitedly. "There! That one!"

Steve handed a few dollar bills to the worker behind the table and accepted three baseballs in exchange. He rolled them in his hands and looked at the size, realizing that now they looked small in comparison to so many years ago, and he felt his confidence building. "Watch this, doll."

He wound his arm back and threw the first pitch, hitting the glass plate dead-center, sending broken glass flying in every direction to make the poor, unwitting worker duck behind his chair. The first hit was followed easily by the other two, leaving Steve with the most adorable, child-like and proud look on his face, clapping his hands together as he turned back to you.

"Which one do you want?"

"What?"

"I've always wanted to win a carnival bear for a beautiful lady. Which one would you like?"

"Actually, sir, since you broke all three plates," the young man said quietly, "and quite spectacularly, I must say, you get this one." He climbed up on a small stool and reached up into the storage space above the booth, struggling a little to remove the largest brown teddy bear you had ever seen. "Congratulations."

Steve took it readily from his hands and slung it over his back, holding the bear's hands around his neck and holding his elbow out for you to loop your arm into his. "Best day ever," he chuckled, "Buck spent all of our money at that same booth trying to win one of these for some redhead back in the day. But the joke is on him. I already won the best prize, having you on my arm. This is just for showing off."

~~~

"This is fucking ridiculous!" Clint spat, storming into the lounge at the training facility in a rage, slamming a stack of magazines on the table hard enough to spread them out and toppling onto the floor. "People can't just mind their own goddamn business and leave this alone. Let the man grieve."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Natasha asked cautiously, taking a few of them in hand, with Tony and Bucky taking the rest. "Oh, no," she gasped, "oh, Tony, we have to stop this."

"I'm on it," he hissed, taking his phone from his pocket to begin frantically dialing. "Hey, it's Stark, I need every lawyer I've got on retainer in my office in an hour." He stood and walked away, his phone tucked into his shoulder so he could read the articles as he moved. "You've seen them? Yeah, let's get this rolling now..."

"Did you see this one?" Bucky groaned, handing the publication to Nat.

The Hero Who Gave Everything Only to Lose It All: The Devastation of Captain America

"This is tabloid bullshit. Who writes this garbage anyway?"

Can the Avengers Survive Without Steve Rogers?

Possible Steve Rogers Sighting in Brooklyn: Captain America Almost Unrecognizable

"They make it sound like he's never coming back," she whispered, shaking her head with each turn of a page. "Shit, listen to this. 'After details of her death were sealed and unavailable for public viewing, we now have information that the Captain's wife, (Y/N), died at the hands of her own best friend and long-time Rogers confidant, Sam Wilson, also known as The Falcon. Both Rogers and Wilson have been officially listed as missing by their team for nearly six months without any report of their possible return. No charges were filed against Wilson for the incident, but it would seem that Rogers and the Avengers have been their own judge and jury, forcing him into hiding from his own team, possibly even for his own safety'."

"Where are they getting this?" Clint interjected, his voice still incensed. "None of us have said a single word to anyone, right? I guarantee Fury and Hill are shut tight. These bastards will make up anything to get cash in their hands over this. It makes me sick." He sat heavily onto the couch next to Natasha, taking a magazine from her hand, "this one's calling him 'mentally unstable and a possible danger to the city'. Fucking ridiculous," he mumbled as he continued to read.

"Alright, kids. Make yourselves presentable," Tony barked out as he returned from his call. "We've got about ten lawyers and three news crews on the way. We need to defend Cap and Sam and put a stop to this once and for all." He looked around the room and did a silent headcount, coming up a little short.

"Hey, has anyone seen Wanda today?"

~~~

"Steve, take my hands."

He took a deep breath and slid his hands slowly into Wanda's, closing his eyes to try to contain the tears that he didn't think he even had. They were trembling within hers but she didn't tighten her grip, even when the familiar red began to glow around them. "I just need to sleep," he said quietly, still not looking up at her. "Please, just a few hours."

"I'll stay with you. If you wake, I'll be here to help."

"Thank you, Wanda. You don't have to do this, but I appreciate it. I don't want to cause any trouble for you with the team."

"That's not a worry for you to have. What else can I do?"

Steve let out a quiet groan at what he was about to ask. He was still enraged, still betrayed, and still unforgiving, but he was also filled with immense guilt at how he had acted and he wasn't convinced that he wouldn't do it again if given the chance. Even through all of that, he needed to know. "Is Sam okay?"

"He, um...he hasn't come home yet either. No one has had any contact with him and all of his belongings have been removed."

~~~

The remaining members of the Avengers stood as a group outside in front of the main entrance, surrounded by reporters and flashing lights, their lawyers directly on the other side of the podium with watchful eyes. Tony turned to face them, away from the crowd that was ready for his answers, and looked directly at Nat.

"Is my tie straight?"

"You look fine, Tony."

"How about my hair?"

"Tony..."

"Sorry, sorry...I'm just actually nervous, can you imagine that?"

She reached up both hands and gently took a hold of his arms, giving them a supportive squeeze as she pulled him in closer. "Be their friend," she whispered in his ear, "protect them. That's all you have to do."

"Right," he nodded, sneaking in a quick kiss on her cheek, "thanks, Red." He turned and took his place, running a finger under his collar with a small tug to loosen it, suddenly feeling like he was being strangled by his own tie. He never gets nervous like this, and it was unsettling to him.

"Hello, thank you all for coming. I know you all have questions for me...for us...and we'll get to that in a minute. First, it's come to our attention that there are publications currently printing false information and assumptions about the terrible accident surrounding Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson. I think it should be pretty obvious when I say that we aren't going to allow that, and my really expensive team of lawyers over here will be delivering your cease and desist letters before this meeting is over. You might even have them in your libel-writing hands already, because they're that good. Keep that in mind if you try to touch my team and pull shit like this again." He turned briefly at a small cough from the legal group, seeing them collectively shaking their heads. "Right," he sighed, "okay, that's it. Three questions, go."

"Mr. Stark, has (Y/N)'s family been in contact with the Avengers since the incident?"

"No. Next."

"Do you know the current whereabouts of Captain Rogers-"

"No. Next."

"I was going to say Sam Wilson too, so that's the same question," the reporter pressed.

"No. I don't know where Sam is either. Next-"

"Actually," Bucky replied uncharacteristically meekly from his stand behind Natasha, stepping forward hesitantly with his hands pushed deep into his pockets and his shoulders tight, "I know exactly where Sam is."

Part 5

Once the murmurs and whispers died down after Bucky's revelation, the reporters left and the lawyers went to work on repairing the damage, leaving Tony standing in front of his teammate with nothing but contempt in his eyes. He didn't like secrets in the first place, but even more so when it involved people that he was trying to protect and that he actually cared about.

"You can't say shit like that in front of the world without telling me first," Tony spat, pointing angrily at Bucky. "I think that's probably something we should know, don't you?"

"Not really."

"Excuse me?"

"He doesn't want anyone to know. I thought I should at least tell everyone that he's okay."

Tony sighed and crossed his arms tightly over his chest, rubbing the rough stubble on his cheek with a weary hand, "so what? You and Wilson are BFF's now? Best buds now that Cap's gone off the reservation? Gone coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs? Taken up residence at the nut hut?"

"Don't talk about Steve like that."

"Then tell me where Sam is."

"He's in San Francisco, and he's being taken care of. That's all you need to know."

~~~

"Thanks for doing this for me, Sam. I hope it's not weird for you."

"So why do they call it 'giving you away'?" he smirked, holding out his tuxedo-clad arm for you. "I would never do that. Call me selfish, sure, but I'm not giving you to anyone, even if it is Cap."

"You're adorable."

"Yeah, girl," he laughed, taking a step back with a quick turn for you to admire him fully, "I know I look good."

"And you're conceited."

"Hey, now, that's just mean."

You gave Sam a friendly nudge with your shoulder and smiled up at him, but when you tried to look away, he held your gaze, his expression turning quickly serious. "What's that face for?"

"You don't have to thank me, (Y/N). I should be thanking you for asking me to do this."

Linking your arm through his, you reached down and picked up your bouquet, pausing to bring it to your nose for a final deep breath of its scent to calm your nerves. Your eyes were closed as you let the gentle mix of spring wash over you, feeling his hand tighten over yours and knowing that he was still watching you. "I'm waiting, Wilson."

"Oh my god," he snickered, "you're such a smartass! See? This is why I love you so damn much." He took your other arm into his grip and turned you to him, pulling you in for one final hug before walking you to Steve. Much as you had just done with your flowers, Sam took in a long breath against your hair, still smiling to himself, "thank you for asking me to do this, (Y/N). There, we good?"

"We're always good, Sam, no matter what." When he finally allowed you to pull away, you pushed up on your toes and left a haze of your lipstick on his cheek, quickly reaching up to wipe it away. "I never thought to ask anyone else."

~~~

Each night when sleep would actually visit, Sam was listless and the rest was far from being enough, still haunted by the same dreams over and over after all this time. Each morning when he woke, everything hurt. His body ached from the lack of sleep and his lack of caring for himself; he barely ate anymore and he couldn't remember the last time he did a workout. In fact, he could barely remember the last time he had stepped outside. The outside world was cruel and heartless and he was glad to be out from under the responsibility of trying to save a place that gave him nothing but pain.

Sam sat up in bed and looked around the room slowly, shaking his head at the sight; his belongings were boxed and stacked in the corner, labelled hastily from his departure from the team so that no one would have the chance to stop him. He couldn't stifle a small laugh at Bucky's choice of words, one box marked as 'this isn't real music' and another as 'who dresses you?'. He had been Sam's most unlikely supporter in all of this, and he took care to not take that for granted. It was actually Bucky's genius idea to ask Scott to allow him to stay out here in the first place, realizing that his home in D.C. would be the first place anyone would look.

This morning he felt particularly terrible, pushing his legs over the side of the bed slowly and feeling slightly dizzy with even that purposeful motion. With a lean forward to rest his arms on his thighs, he dropped his head into his hands with a groan, "You need to get it together. Come on, Sam, enough. You just gotta get her out of your head once and for all. Maybe you should talk to Cap."

"You know, talking to yourself could be a sign that you're finally losing it," Scott smiled from the doorway, taking a sip from his coffee. "I suppose it was just a matter of time."

"I lost it a long time ago, man."

"No argument from this side of the room."

"Something I can do for you, tic tac?"

Scott reached into his pocket slowly, watching Sam cautiously for a reaction though he wasn't even sure what he would do if this news didn't go well. His thumb grazed over the screen until it came to life, searching quickly for the message he had received from Bucky only an hour ago. He turned the phone over in his hand and extended it to Sam, who paused before taking it.

"Is this something that I actually want to see?"

"That's not really my call to make. I'm just the messenger."

Sam rubbed his eyes, still battling a haze of fatigue clouding his vision. He took a deep breath and held the phone up, gasping quietly at what he was reading, but in the same moment realizing that this was inevitable and nodding in acceptance.

"Steve wants to see me."

"Yeah," Scott mumbled, taking another sip of the steaming liquid that Sam now desperately wanted, "you gonna go?"

"Of course." Sam stood and crossed the room quickly, his focus on only one thing, the look of determination on his face taking Scott aback slightly. He reached out and all but ripped the cup from his friend's hand, taking the drink down in one long swallow and a grimace at the burn down his throat. "I already feel dead, so might as well let the man finish it."

"That was mine."

"You're gonna deny a dying man his last cup of coffee?"

"But it was mine..." Scott sighed, taking the cup from Sam and looking into the emptiness sadly. "You really think he still wants to kill you? It's been like, six months."

"You really think that six months is enough time to get over his friend killing his wife?"

Scott stood silently for a moment, considering Sam's words and seeing the accepting look on his face. Hank's wife had died in an accident too, and even though it wasn't at his friend's hands, it had been years and he was no less healed. Sam was right; it had been only six months, which was a blink of an eye for something this devastating. Sam was definitely right; he was a dead man.

"Yeah, let me get you another cup before you go."

~~~

"Okay, he said he'll be here as soon as he can. Are you sure this is what you want?"

"Yeah, Buck. I think this is the only way that I can move on," Steve nodded slowly. "And I need to make amends. He has no reason at all to do this for me after how I acted. Neither of you do."

"Ain't that the truth."

"Steve," Wanda interrupted, "you were in pain. He understands that."

"But what about the pain that he's in? I didn't take that into consideration even once." Steve stood from his chair and moved to the small window above the kitchen sink, leaning his clenched fists on the countertop as he watched the city outside. He hadn't been out of his apartment in so long that he wasn't even sure how to live amongst people anymore, and he hadn't considered if he would even want to until now.

"You're not giving Sam a whole lot of credit," Bucky added. "He didn't leave because he was scared of you. He left because he didn't want to hurt you any more. He thinks that every time you see him, you'll only see what he did."

"He isn't exactly...wrong," Steve murmured to himself. "I don't deserve his help."

"No, you don't."

"Thanks, Buck," Steve smiled weakly, turning around to face him and lean back against the sink. "Even now, I can count on you to bust my chops when I need it."

Bucky gave him a smile in return, though looking just as tired and emotionally drained as the one he had received, taking a few steps closer to his friend without attempting to reach out for contact as he normally would. He hadn't reached that level of forgiveness just yet.

"Well, Rogers, you do have a lot of repayment left for the size 13 footprint you left on my chest. This is a good start."

~~~

Once he had finally arrived, Sam stood outside of the Brooklyn apartment in complete shock, staring at Bucky like he was speaking in a jibberish language that everyone understood but him. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, and furthermore, that he hadn't arrived at Steve's home to be murdered like he had spent hours preparing for.

"This is the dumbest idea that you two have ever had. And I've heard quite a few. You two are fucking insane." Sam turned away and began to pace along the sidewalk, crossing his arms as he moved and watching his feet so that he wouldn't look up at Bucky's expectant stare. "How did you pull Wanda into this? She can't possibly think that this is okay?"

"She's been with him for a few months now, helping him work through all of this. She's probably the reason that you're still alive, Sam."

"Then I'll be sure to thank her," he sighed, "right after I tell her she's an idiot to let this happen."

"I'm sure she'll agree. Just come on up and hear them out," Bucky pleaded, stepping aside for Sam to see the door. "You can say no."

"Alright," he nodded firmly, staring at his friend as he passed him, stomping up each stair with a determination to hold his ground no matter what Steve could throw at him both literally and figuratively. He was ready for both a verbal and physical fight, and he needed to maintain his stance to get Cap to see what a mistake he was about to make.

"No. No, Steve, this is a terrible idea," Sam barked as he stormed through the door. "You don't want this in your head and I can't believe that you all are on board with this. How in the hell is this a good idea?"

Steve jolted at Sam's arrival, standing from his spot to a quick attention, though pushing his hands deep into is pockets to demonstrate that he wasn't about to attack him again. "Sam, I'm...I'm just so..."

"It's okay, Cap," he replied, his hands up to deflect his words, "don't worry about it. I'm past it. That wasn't you."

"Yes, it was."

"Well, shit," Sam laughed, albeit nervously, "let's just put that dark side of Steve away for a while, then. He's a real bastard."

The two friends stood silently for a moment, regarding each other in unspoken words, neither of them really knowing what to say. Steve's feet shuffled in place, while Sam finally had to cast his eyes away and look anywhere else. The uncomfortable silence hung so heavily over the room that even Wanda and Bucky felt it, until Sam finally couldn't stand it anymore. "Okay, so back to this whole thing that you want to do, it's a terrible idea. I have to live with seeing her die every day when it replays in my nightmares, but that's on me for what I did. Hell, just the mention of her name brings it back. This is more pain than you want, Steve."

"I can take it from you, Sam," Wanda offered quietly.

"I don't want you to take it from me. Yeah, it fucking hurts. But this whole thing is on me, and I own that. I don't want to walk around for the rest of my life all happy and free when I stole her chance to do the same." Sam stopped at the lump building in his throat and the pain of his words, recognizing the telltale burn of tears welling in his eyes. He had thought he was beyond that now, but talking about this next to Steve and seeing the pain that was still so fresh, he couldn't stop it. "Hell no, don't even think about taking that."

"Then just share it with me," Steve pressed, taking a few steps closer to him. "I need to see this, Sam."

"What exactly do you think you're gonna see, Cap?"

"Her eyes. Her face. I would hear her voice again. Her last breath."

"Come on, man..."

"You owe me nothing. You don't owe me to even be standing here right now and I wouldn't blame you if you left and never looked back. But please...Sam, please, I'm begging you to do this."

Sam stood silently at the center of the room, looking to each of his teammates for guidance; something that would make this decision easier. He wanted to help Steve, more than anything, because he was the one who had hurt him. He wanted to do anything he asked, but to share the visions of that terrible moment with him didn't feel like helping. But the look in Steve's eyes was beyond pleading; it was desperation, and the look of a man at his final shred of hope. It wasn't a look that Sam had ever thought he would see in Steve Rogers, but his view of the man had been drastically changed in so many ways since all of this began.

"Okay...okay, fine," he relented. "But if we do this, you need to know that I will never forgive myself for what you're about to see, no matter what any of you say." When none of them argued and only replied with silent nods of understanding, Sam let out a quiet groan in disbelief at what he was agreeing to. "Alright, where do you want me?"

Wanda moved forward and gently took his arm, leading him to a seat on the couch, "Sam, you sit here, Steve here," she paused and pointed to the spot next to Sam, "and Bucky, please stand behind him."

Bucky leaned in next to Steve and whispered something that the others couldn't hear, before leaning in next to Sam to do the same. "If this goes south and I say run, you run." He moved to his post behind Steve, placing his metal hand firmly on his shoulder as a message to his friend that he would protect Sam from him if necessary.

"We're ready."

Part 6

Steve and Sam sat frozen in place with their eyes filled with a glowing red; they were looking at each other but seeing only what was playing out in their minds courtesy of the link Wanda had created. Sam was reliving one of his worst moments with Steve a willing participant in sharing it. With Wanda as engrossed in the memory as the conduit between his two friends, Bucky could only stand by and watch, waiting for any sign that he needed to break them apart, though he had no idea how. All he knew was that he would never trade places with any of them.

"I've got a clean shot. (Y/N), don't move!" Sam said to you, but you didn't seem to hear him. His guns flipped into his hands at his command and he quickly took aim.

The man reacted, spinning around to hold you in front of him as a shield, and all Sam could do was watch as you took the full assault from his own weapons. He tried to pull back, but the triggers were pulled before his mind realized what was happening. With another dark and louder laugh, the man let you go and watched your limp form crumble to the ground at his feet before turning to run. For Sam, the entire event passed through his mind in a painful and terrifying slow motion that he couldn't stop.

Steve gasped and yanked himself away from Wanda's grip, breaking the bond immediately. He bolted up from his seat on the couch and ran to the kitchen, burying his head in the garbage can with violent and incessant retches.

"Steve," Sam groaned, grabbing his head as he came back into reality with a strong wave of vertigo from the sudden disconnect. "Steve we don't have to do this. It's too much." He leaned forward, dropping his head between his knees to regain his equilibrium. "It only gets worse."

"I can feel it," Steve mumbled between heaves, "like it's me. I just killed her."

"I warned you about this, Steve." Wanda stood and followed into the kitchen, opening drawers until she found her goal. She took a towel and ran it under the cool tap water, wringing the excess away before resting it on the back of his neck. "The only way I can show you is to put you into his point of view."

"I need to keep going," he replied quietly. After a final few coughs, he took the towel away and brought it to his face, wiping away the sweat that had drenched his skin. "I can do this." He tossed the towel on the counter top and returned to his seat, rubbing his hands nervously over the tops of his thighs and glancing up at Sam. "Let's go."

"Dammit, Cap..."

"I said, let's go."

"No, no, no, no, no...Steve! Steve, (Y/N)...(Y/N)'s down...Steve!" Sam screamed, pushing himself to fly as fast as he could. "Oh, God...no, no, (Y/N), come on..." he panted, dropping to his knees next to you. "(Y/N), you gotta stay with me, sweetheart, please...I'm so sorry..." His words were tumbling from him as fast as his hands were moving, frantic in trying to stop the bleeding in too many places. "Shit...no, no, no, please...(Y/N)..."

"Sam...it's okay...not your fault," you gasped. "Tell Steve..."

"I love you too," Steve whispered aloud, the pain in his voice bringing a haze of tears to Bucky's eyes. He watched Steve's hands move frantically in front of him, reaching out for someone who would never be there. "Don't leave me, please."

"You're gonna tell him, (Y/N). Don't you do this...he's gonna be here," Sam begged, raising up slightly to look around for Steve to arrive. It had only been a matter of seconds, but when he looked back down, you were gone and his body crumbled in the agony. "(Y/N)? No, baby, come on, don't...you can't do this..."

Steve's breaths began to heave in his chest and the tears flowed freely down his cheeks, but his eyes were still aglow and still watching what was playing in his mind. His hand reached up to touch you, though it was only moving through the air in front of him. Bucky couldn't see into his mind, but he knew exactly where he was in the memory.

"Sam!"

"Bucky..." your friend cried quietly as Bucky arrived first at his side, "what did I do? It was so fast. I had him...and then it was her...before I could stop..."

"Oh...fuck. Oh, not you, (Y/N)," Bucky whispered to himself, his voice breaking. "Sam, we need to get her to Steve." Bucky knelt down to slide his arms under you, wiping the tears from his eyes with his sleeve before reaching out, but Sam pushed him aside.

"No, I did this. I'll take her."

Sam removed his blood-soaked gloves, dropping them carelessly to the ground beside you. He pulled his sleeves up and slid his arms slowly beneath you, taking care as if you would shatter in his hands.

Steve reached down to his own arm and grazed over his skin with his other hand, trying to feel you in his grip, feeling the weight of you against him. You felt cool to his touch already, just as you had when he was really there, and the tactile experience pulled him away from the memory. His vision tunneled and darkened, and the colors faded away. He tried to keep his eyes on your face, but the loss of connection was too much, and it all went black.

~~~

"Steve...Steve, c'mon, wake up." Bucky gently shook his friend who had crumbled out of the seat and onto the floor in an unconscious heap, lying next to Sam who had done the same.

Wanda sat on the floor and pulled Sam's head gently onto her lap, though the flow of tears from her own eyes was unstoppable. She had experienced the memory as much as they had, but twice as vivid and twice as painful. "Sam, can you hear me?"

"Yeah," he murmured, "yeah, I'm here. I'm okay." Sam opened his eyes slowly, squinting at the change in brightness around him, taking a moment for them to adjust. He was already nursing a strong headache from the first disconnection, and the light was the final insult that made his head pound like he had never experienced before.

"Steve?" Bucky tried again, this time with better success and breathing a sigh of relief when he got a response.

"Hmm?"

"Open your eyes."

The Captain only shook his head in refusal, sitting up and holding his eyes closed, bringing his hands to them with a firm pressure that radiated through his head. The pain matched what Sam was feeling, but rather than trying to dismiss it, he welcomed the torture. "No, I can't. I need to hold on...I don't want to go yet. I can still feel it...her..."

"Steve, what you need to do is let her go," Sam groaned, pushing himself up on his elbows and rolling over to lift himself up to standing. "We both need to let her go. Open your eyes, Cap." When he didn't follow the command, Sam leaned down wearily in front of him and shoved him back with a firm hit with both hands, despite the waver in his stance, "dammit, Rogers, open your eyes!"

"Sam, what are you doing?" Bucky snapped, pushing his hands away. "Give the guy a minute."

"Steve, I want you to listen to me," Sam began and ignoring Bucky completely, "alright? You listening? (Y/N) is gone. She's gone and she ain't coming back, no matter how long you refuse to accept it, it won't change. You can keep your eyes shut forever and it won't change. You need to open your eyes and keep moving forward, because you know how pissed she'd be to see you like this."

"You don't think I know that?"

"Then what the hell are you waiting for?"

"I don't know, Sam," he whispered under his breath, slowly and reluctantly uncovering his eyes but not yet opening them. He leaned back against the seat and took a long breath, but it was shaky and tremulous with his exhale as if he were about to break at any given moment. Slowly, his eyes opened, squinting much as Sam had at the change in light, and his focus went immediately to him. "I'm waiting for it to stop hurting so much."

"You're gonna be waiting a hell of a long time."

"Yeah..." he sighed, giving him the first smile he had seen from Steve in months. It was small and just the hint of a curl at the corner of his mouth, but it was there. Sam couldn't tell if it was genuine or not, but he didn't care. Steve sat for a moment in silence and regarded him, looking at the man that he had blamed for your loss, the man he almost killed in his rage, and realized that he had been completely wrong. He was the one who should be harboring guilt in all of this after everything he had done.

"Listen, I don't blame you, Sam. You couldn't have changed how it happened."

"Well I blame me."

"She told you, it wasn't your fault. I saw it for myself, and she was right."

"Hey now," Sam hissed, "I told you before this whole thing," he paused, waving his hand around, "doesn't matter what you say. I own it, so drop it."

Steve stretched his back with a quiet moan and pushed himself up to stand next to Sam, with Bucky at his side. Sam took a reflexive step back with a quick hand raised, and it wasn't lost on Steve at all. "Okay, I'll drop it," he reassured. "Sam, I'm sorry. What I did-"

"Was what you felt you had to do, I get it. But I'm sorry too, Steve. I'm so sorry."

"Me too, guys," Bucky joined in with a loud sniffle and a whimper, reaching out to throw his arms around the two of them. "I didn't even do anything, but I'm sorry."

"Bucky, what the hell?" Steve scoffed, but returned the hug with a bewildered glance towards Sam. "You're crying?"

"It's just been so stressful with you guys, and I didn't know if you'd ever get along again, or if we'd even ever just be in the same room together," he paused, pushing back from the pair with another sniffle and a rub of his arm across his nose. "I don't know how much more I could take. I wanted to be here for you, Steve, but I needed to make sure you didn't kill Sam. Then you went into total asshole mode against me too so I shipped Sam off to San Fran and that left me with nobody other than Barton, but that guy never shuts up!" He stopped and took a deep breath, his shoulders dropping before throwing his arms back around his two friends, "it was just so stressful, you guys!"

"Okay, Buck, we're sorry," Steve replied quietly, shrugging his shoulders at Sam with a bewildered look. "We're good now, okay?"

"Yeah, man, we're sorry," Sam agreed with a smile building. "You wanna maybe go grab a drink? Calm you down a little?"

"Okay," Bucky sighed and nodded, smiling through his exasperated tears, "it's on you."

~~~

The three men sat quietly at the worn wooden bar, each of them nursing their drinks with barely a sip taken from them. It was the same bar that you had all gathered at before your last mission, and it was the first time that any of them had been there since. Bucky tipped his bar stool on one leg, precariously balancing himself and mindlessly peeling the label away from his beer, while Sam and Steve stared at the drinks in their glasses as if they were avoiding the inevitable topic that hung over them all.

"I can't believe you tried to give her a glass of water," Bucky finally chuckled. "You're a brave son of a bitch."

"I was trying to be responsible!" Steve smiled back, still not taking his eyes from the glass. "She didn't listen anyway, if you recall."

"When did she? Let's be honest here," Sam added, "the girl definitely had her own mind."

"Yeah...and I loved that."

"Yeah, me too," both Sam and Bucky quietly agreed. The trio finally exchanged glances, pausing with a moment of reminiscence in their expressions, each of them obviously replaying some memory of you in their mind. After a few minutes, Bucky slowly stood from his seat and took his beer in hand, raising it up before the other two.

"To (Y/N)," he said with a faint strain cracking in his voice, "the craziest, toughest, smartest and kindest gal I've ever known."

"To (Y/N)," Steve and Sam agreed. The three took a drink and set their glasses down, looking to each other as the decision was made to leave. Steve pulled out a few bills, but the bartender pushed his hand away and wouldn't accept payment.

Before he could protest, the white-haired man took a glass from behind the bar and poured a single shot for himself, holding it out towards Steve with a slight shake in his aged hand. He straightened himself as best as he could, saluting both your memory and the legacy that stood before him, looking through hazy bifocals and speaking with a voice filled with a lifetime of experience that Steve couldn't help but feel honored to receive.

"To moving forward, Cap."